


two worlds collided (they could never tear us apart)

by Eternal_Peace_is_Overrated



Series: cold bones (that's my love) [2]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Drunk Number Five | The Boy, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Ghost Ben Hargreeves, Good Sibling Klaus Hargreeves, Good Sibling Number Five | The Boy, Hopeful Ending, It's not as bad as it sounds though, Klaus Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Klaus Hargreeves-centric, M/M, Number Five | The Boy Needs A Hug, Past Klaus Hargreeves/David "Dave" Katz, Sibling Bonding, Sober Klaus Hargreeves, Touch-Starved Klaus Hargreeves, Touch-Starved Number Five | The Boy, Veteran Klaus Hargreeves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:15:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26558752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eternal_Peace_is_Overrated/pseuds/Eternal_Peace_is_Overrated
Summary: Wherein there's some good, old fashioned brotherly bonding (with a little bit of angst peppered in for flavor).***Five is silent, still staring at him, and Klaus winds his arms around himself, shoulders hunching under the scrutiny, feeling undeniably like he’s just said something wrong.But then Five is lurching forward, pulling him clumsily against his chest and Klaus just- freezes.Because this is the second time in as many months that Five has hugged him, and Klaus just- he misses it. He’s always been tactile and his siblings, while always willing to tolerate it with nothing more dramatic than an eye roll, are never the ones to initiate it, and he hasn’t realized how much he’s wanted that until, well, now.
Relationships: Ben Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves, Klaus Hargreeves/David "Dave" Katz, Number Five | The Boy & Klaus Hargreeves
Series: cold bones (that's my love) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1931503
Comments: 16
Kudos: 417





	two worlds collided (they could never tear us apart)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Here I am again, with an urge to write at 2 am. 
> 
> Hence this baby! I'm not entirely happy with the last quarter or so of this, but I'm too tired to fix it, sorry not sorry. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy anyways, and please leave a comment or kudos on your way out! I live off of them!
> 
> This is part of a series now, a follow up to 'fault lines (tremble underneath my glass house)' and while you don't necessarily have to read that one first, it will help this one make a little more sense and put things into perspective. 
> 
> (Title from Never Tear Us Apart by INXS)

Five is drunk. 

And it turns out a drunk Five is a _talkative_ (and handsy) Five. 

“ _Klaus…_ ” Five whined, making grabby hands at the bottle like he couldn’t just blink to Klaus’s other side if he wanted to, half folded over Klaus’s back as he tried to reach it. 

“Oh, for god's sake,” Klaus grumbles, shoving Five back into a chair and ignoring the burning _need_ to uncap the bottle (he’s been _good_ , okay, he’s going on nearly two months sober, so _why_ haven’t the cravings gone away). 

“You’re no fun,” Five hisses, sprawling in the chair, and Klaus just rolls his eyes and goes to make two mugs of coffee instead (it’s the expensive shit, because once they stopped the apocalypse, all Five had left was coffee and Delores, and “ _I’ll be damned if you think I’m drinking that instant shit you bought, Klaus_ , _it tastes like garbage_ ”). 

“Excuse you, I’m a goddamn _delight._ ” 

Five grumbles something under his breath that’s probably very uncomplimentary but cradles the mug Klaus hands to him close to his chest, as if someone’s going to pop out of nowhere and steal it (wouldn’t be the first time, actually, but after Luther got stabbed with a pen, they all learned to _never_ get between Five and his coffee). 

They sit in comfortable silence that lasts all of two minutes before Five is breaking it. 

“Do you regret it?” 

Klaus glances up from where he was idly drawing patterns on the table with a purple painted fingernail. 

“Regret what?” 

“Oh, y’know,” Five gestures grandly at him, and Klaus really does _not_ know, so he tells him as much. 

Five groans and glares, like it’s somehow _Klaus’s_ fault that Five can’t be bothered to speak in full sentences, before elaborating, voice slow and even as if he’s talking to a young child, “The briefcase. Vietnam. _Dave_.” 

And that- 

That- 

That’s not something they talk about. They haven’t brought it up since Klaus’s breakdown all those months ago, not even in passing. 

Something in Klaus’s chest clenches painfully, just like it always does when he’s thinking about Dave, or talking about Dave, or dreaming about Dave- 

But he knows the answer; he’s thought about it a lot, and not _once_ has he second guessed himself (not even on the bad days, which heavily outweigh the good ones, nowadays). 

“No.” 

Five lets his head loll back against the chair, looking surprised at the quick surety of Klaus’s answer. 

“But he’s dead,” Five points out callously, doesn’t add on the unspoken _and you’re not._

Klaus lets out a weary breath. “Yeah. Yeah, he is, and it fucking _sucks,_ Five, but I would do it all again in a heartbeat.” 

Five is staring at him now, weirdly intense, and it’s making Klaus uncomfortable. 

Finally, Five asks, “Why?” 

And Klaus- he doesn’t even have to think about that. 

“Because I loved him,” he says, and when Five stares at him expectantly, he reluctantly pushes through. “Because I _love_ him. Because he made me happy, and he made me laugh, and he made me want to be _better,_ no matter how many times he told me I didn’t need to be; that he loved me no matter what; that I was already perfect for him just the way I am.” He shakes his head. “I had to travel fifty years in the past and halfway across the world to find someone who told me that they loved me for me; to find someone to teach me what love even _means_ . The ten months I spent with him were the happiest ten months of my life. Loving him was worth losing him-” _-even when it sometimes hurts so much I can’t breathe-_ “even if I wish I didn’t have to lose him at all.” 

Five is silent, still staring at him, and Klaus winds his arms around himself, shoulders hunching under the scrutiny, feeling undeniably like he’s just said something _wrong_. 

But then Five is deliberately putting his mug down on the table and lurching forward, pulling him clumsily against his chest and Klaus just- freezes. 

Because this is the second time in as many months that Five has hugged him, and Klaus just- he _misses_ it. He’s always been tactile and his siblings, while always willing to tolerate it with nothing more dramatic than an eye roll, are never the ones to initiate it, and he hasn’t realized how much he’s wanted that until, well, now. 

Klaus doesn’t hesitate after that. 

He winds his arms around his little big brother and hugs him tightly back (not for purely selfish reasons, really; he can feel Five trembling- he knows his brother needed this just as much as he did, but was too stubborn to ask). 

He’s not sure how long they stay like that, but eventually Five pulls back with a sniffle, scrubbing his sleeve over his eyes, and Klaus blinks at him, wide eyed. 

“Five, are you-” Klaus leans forward, trying to pull Five’s hands away from his face. “Are you _crying_?”

“No!” Five immediately denies, shoving Klaus’s face back with one hand. 

“Oh my god, you are! Come here, come here!” Klaus hauls his brother close once again, cooing, “Oh, you’re just a big softie at heart, aren’t you?”

“Shut _up_ , you big moron, it’s just- you _love_ him, and it isn’t _fair_ , okay?” Five pushes half heartedly at his chest before just staying slumped there. 

“I know,” Klaus says, smile soft and sad. “But there’s not a lot I can do about that, is there?”

“Have you tried conjuring him?”

Klaus scoffs. “Why do you think I’ve been sober? Of course I’ve tried. It hasn’t worked.”

Five’s voice is soft, and small and so very _young_ sounding when he says, “I’m sorry.” 

Klaus shrugs, ignoring the painful throb in his chest, arms tightening around Five. “Me too, Fivey, me too.” 

Silence reigns again, and Klaus is just about to speak again- maybe ask about Dolores, he knows Five would happily talk about her- when Five starts to snore quietly. 

“Is he _asleep_?”

The voice comes right next to his ear, and Klaus startles violently, hugging Five tighter in an effort not to jostle him. 

“Jesus _fuck_ , Ben,” Klaus whisper-hisses at his brother, and Ben just looks at him unapologetically, one eyebrow raised. “Yes. Yes, he’s asleep, and that, like, _never_ happens, so I would appreciate it if you would be _quiet_.” 

Ben shoots him an unimpressed look. “He can’t hear me, Klaus.” 

Klaus glares harder at him. “It’s the principle of the thing!”

Ben rolls his eyes. “You should probably get him to bed before _you_ wake him up.” 

Klaus just stares at him. “Ben. _Mein bruder_ , I have _noodle arms_. How do you expect me to get him all the way upstairs?” 

“It’s either that, or wake him up,” Ben points out logically, but Klaus doesn’t want to do _either_ of those things, so he just settles himself more comfortably in his chair (which isn’t much, really- pops didn’t exactly buy the dining table chairs with comfort in mind), shifting Five until he’s in what Klaus guesses is at least a semi-comfortable position, all limbs accounted for and head resting over Klaus’s heart. 

Ben stares at him incredulously. “ _Seriously_?”

“Yes, Ben, _seriously_.”

“He’s gonna be pissed when he wakes up.” 

“He’ll have a hangover, it’s fine. He’ll be more concerned about that.” 

“Are you sure about that?”

“...no. But it’s the best I got, right now.” 

“Well,” Ben huffs. “It’s your funeral.”

“You would know,” Klaus sing songs, and Ben rolls his eyes before disappearing off to go do whatever it is ghosts do at night (Klaus hasn’t actually asked; he really should, but he’s pretty sure Ben just wanders around creepily watching people sleep). 

***

Klaus is woken rather rudely by someone dumping him out of the chair and onto the floor. 

With a yelp, he shoots upright, flailing for a moment until his hands find the table and he’s able to haul himself upright with it, glaring fiercely at Five, whose nursing a mug of coffee and looking like absolute _shit_ (in an adorable way), hair standing up in every direction, eyes all squinty against the sunlight streaming through the windows, tie askew and shirt only half tucked in. 

“Lookin’ good, Five,” Klaus croons, reaching out and snagging Five’s mug, taking a long drink of his coffee before settling the mug back in Five’s hands (it was a gamble, really; a test, to see if their little brotherly bonding session last night did anything in Klaus’s favor- and it might’ve, or Five just felt terrible enough not to retaliate immediately). 

“Shut up,” Five instructs. “I have an idea. I don’t know if it will work, but I’m _pretty_ sure it will work if I can get the timing right.” 

Klaus stares at him blankly, and Five stares back. 

“Five,” Klaus finally says once it becomes clear his brother has zero intentions of elaborating on his own. “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.” 

Five sighs deeply, as if Klaus’s mere existence is a nuisance (and there’s the brother he knows and loves; gone is the clinging limpet from last night).

“Dave,” Five says impatiently. “I might be able to save him.”

And- well, _that_ certainly wakes Klaus up. He scrambles to his feet properly, staring at Five with wide eyes, hope starting to swell in his chest. 

“You- really?” He asks, heart hammering against his ribs. 

“We just have to ensure you come back to 2019,” Five explains. “So we can’t prevent his death- or, I suppose, we can’t stop past you from _thinking_ he’s dead. I can’t save you that heartbreak, unfortunately. I _can_ , however, go back and grab him after you’ve left him and bring him back here.” Five pauses, eyes boring into Klaus’s intently now, searching his face. “However, there’s no guarantee that he’ll survive. It will depend entirely on his own will to live, how quickly we can get him medical attention, and the severity of the wound.” 

“But-” 

“I know it killed him once,” Five says, already knowing what Klaus was going to ask. “However, that was without medical attention. As I said, I can’t guarantee he’s going to live even if I manage to get him here. But I know I _can_ get him here. I just need to know, Klaus, whether you want me to try at all.” 

And...Klaus is quiet for a moment; oh, he wants to say yes _immediately,_ but... 

Could he survive that, a second time? Dave’s blood on his hands, hearing Dave’s breath stuttering in his lungs, watching the life drain from his eyes?

It nearly destroyed Klaus, the first time; if it doesn’t work- he knows himself, he knows he couldn’t handle it, he knows that would be what _breaks_ him. 

But-

But. 

But if it works...god, if it _works_. 

If it works, he would have everything he’s ever wanted. 

It all comes down to what he told Five, doesn’t it?

That he’d do it again in a heartbeat; that loving him was worth losing him (and Klaus knows he wouldn’t survive losing him again, but what if he doesn’t have to?)

Klaus pulls in a deep breath and lets it out slowly; in and out, in and out, nice and steady- _(Dave is smiling at him, warm and bright, hands resting on Klaus’s hips as they sway to the music, and he’s saying something but Klaus isn’t sure what, too caught up in the heady feeling of being_ loved _, pure and unconditional and unwavering)_ \- before he catches Five’s eyes again. 

“Do it.”

  
  



End file.
